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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459031">In Plain Sight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettered/pseuds/lettered'>lettered</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Words And Not Deeds [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Biphobia, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slurs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:53:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettered/pseuds/lettered</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl wants to be a part of the family. Daryl is also afraid to be a part of the family. Rick knows both of these things.</p>
<p>This takes place directly after the second story in this series.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Words And Not Deeds [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/694122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Plain Sight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've had this sitting on a hard drive for quite a few years. It was originally part of a longer story that it looks like I'm not going to finish. Since this bit works on its own, I split it off. The series as a whole is finished and has an ending; this was meant to be filler.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weekend after Daryl and Rick built the crib, Rick called Daryl and asked him if he wanted to come over.</p>
<p>“But I thought,” Daryl began.  Stopped, started over.  “Thought you had your kids?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Rick.</p>
<p>“Don’t you gotta . . .” <i>take care of them,</i> Daryl wanted to say, but it weren’t like Rick couldn’t take care of them with Daryl there.  <i>Don’t you gotta act normal</i>, was the other thing he wanted to say, but that was stupid.  Weren’t like Rick was gonna tie him up and go down on him and that other stuff with his kids there.  </p>
<p>But that meant they weren’t gonna fuck around.  Or probably not.  They weren’t gonna fuck and Rick still wanted him over there—for what?  But that was stupid too because that day they went shopping and built the crib they hadn’t done nothing.  Not until later, anyway.</p>
<p>“Whatever you’re thinking,” said Rick, “you’re overthinking it.”</p>
<p>A long pause followed, in which Daryl wasn’t thinking at all.  He just wanted Rick to talk to him some more.</p>
<p>“Just come over,” said Rick.</p>
<p>“Okay,” said Daryl.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>When Daryl got there, Rick was shirtless and holding a baby.  Daryl’s brain short circuited and Rick said, “Get in here.  She just spit up on me.  Carl!”</p>
<p>But Carl was nowhere to be seen and the baby was so small and delicate, pale and pink just like a rose, with the same soft petal skin, up against Rick’s chest.  Jesus, Rick’s chest.  Daryl’s mouth was watering.  Rick was pale and too skinny, but his flesh was firm—steady, strong, reliable against her baby soft skin and Rick was saying something but Daryl kept staring.</p>
<p>“Carl!” Rick called again, and Daryl realized the door was still open and Rick had his dirty shirt in his left hand, right hand curving around Judith so she was sitting on his hip.</p>
<p>Carl still didn’t come.</p>
<p>“You take her,” Rick said, tossing the shirt and bringing his other hand up to peel Judy off him and hold her out.  </p>
<p>Daryl took a step back.</p>
<p>“Come on,” said Rick.  “She doesn’t bite.”  Then he was putting the baby up against Daryl’s chest so he had to hold out his arms; he didn’t know how, but Rick didn’t seem to care, just put the baby there and Daryl had her, so afraid he was gonna drop her.  His arms were stiff and he cradled her sideways because he didn’t know how to hold her on his hip one-handed; that was some skilled shit right there.</p>
<p>Rick stepped back, closed the door, picked up his shirt again.  His eyes raked over Daryl.  “I’m gonna get changed,” he said, turning away to go back to the hall where his bedroom was.  </p>
<p>With his big bed.  Where he fucked Daryl.  Where he fucked Daryl except now there was this little baby and she was soft and weirdly warm and making little noises—not very good noises, distressed noises.  Like she was about to cry.  Shit.</p>
<p>“Bounce her,” said Carl, appearing from the kitchen.</p>
<p>Daryl held the baby out.  Carl held up his hands and took a step back.  The baby cried harder.</p>
<p>“I’m not taking her,” said Carl.  “You see that monumental barf she did?”</p>
<p>Daryl hadn’t seen the monumental barf.  He’d only seen Rick.  Holding a baby.</p>
<p>“Bounce her,” Carl said again.  “Rock her or something.  She doesn’t like to be held still.”</p>
<p>Daryl tried to rock her, but she didn’t seem to like it, still crying.  Daryl thought about bouncing her but didn’t know how to do that with her in his arms, but he’d seen some moms put the front of the babies against their chests, with the little baby heads kinda resting on the mom’s shoulder, the mom’s arms holding it so it didn’t fall.</p>
<p>Daryl tried, finally getting her vertical.  It felt better this way, more parts of her touching him so it seemed less likely he’d drop her, and Carl was just standing in the kitchen doorway watching him.  Daryl bounced the baby.</p>
<p>Finally he was comfortable enough to look around and wonder where Rick went, but turned out Rick was just standing there in the hallway.  Leaning against the wall, looking at him.  </p>
<p>Daryl’s cheeks heated up.  He whipped around to look at Carl, but where Rick was standing, Carl and Rick couldn’t see each other.  Daryl looked back at Rick, who licked his lips.</p>
<p>Judy began to fuss again.</p>
<p>Rick peeled himself off the wall—dressed, Daryl finally realized; Rick had on a stupidly big white t-shirt instead of the fitted things he usually wore, and that was good.  That was great.  Daryl didn’t want to think about the things Rick had done to him, the ways Rick had touched him, not while he was holding this baby and with Carl in the kitchen.  It was easier not to think about it if Rick had on baggy clothes and the baby was fussing.</p>
<p>Rick came and got Judy, hands brushing Daryl’s, smelling like spoiled milk and talcum powder and Old Spice, then Rick and Carl were sniping at each other about dinner, and Rick was bouncing the kid, crisis averted.</p>
<p>Daryl’s whole being sagged in relief.  He hadn’t killed the baby.</p>
<p>Rick and Carl went into the kitchen and after a moment Daryl shuffled in, following.  Kinda hovered in the doorway, wondering whether he should help.  Rick was stirring stuff on the stove with the baby on his hip again, telling Carl how to cook corn on the cob.</p>
<p>Yes, Daryl should help.  Or this was gonna be a fucking disaster. </p>
<p>Daryl went into the kitchen to start shucking the corn with Carl.</p>
<p>The stuff in the pan was frozen vegetables and Rick was microwaving the chicken, which Daryl found tragic.  “What else would you do with it?” Rick wanted to know, when Daryl told him so.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” said Daryl.  “Cook it, maybe?”</p>
<p>“Dad doesn’t know how to cook,” Carl pointed out helpfully.  </p>
<p>Daryl showed Carl how to do the corn, how you put a little salt in the water, how you didn’t wanna boil them until right before everything else was ready so it would be hot, but you couldn’t leave them in there too long because you didn’t want them mushy.  Daryl took over the fry pan too, because he wanted to actually eat, though he left the chicken with Rick because who knew what the fuck to do with microwaved chicken.</p>
<p>There weren’t much you did with it, apparently, because after poking the bowl in the microwave and pushing some more buttons Rick wandered off with Judy to change her diaper, and it was just Daryl and Carl.  Daryl thought maybe it’d be a little awkward, but Carl seemed into the cooking now, even though he’d been complaining before.  Maybe it was because Daryl actually knew what he was doing, and he didn’t microwave chicken to cook it.</p>
<p>“It’s cool you know how to cook.  Dad doesn’t know how to do anything,” Carl said, just because he was Carl.</p>
<p>“Knows how to hold a baby,” Daryl said, because he couldn’t get that image out of his head.</p>
<p>“I guess.”  Carl picked golden hairs off the corn.  After another moment he said, “You said you were gonna show me how to shoot a crossbow.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” said Daryl.</p>
<p>“Well?” said Carl.</p>
<p>“Corn first,” said Daryl.</p>
<p>Carl looked surprised.  “You brought it?”</p>
<p>“Crossbow?”  Daryl grunted.  “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Carl looked around, like it was gonna materialize.  “Where?”</p>
<p>“I ain’t brought it in the house.”</p>
<p>“It’s an apartment,” Carl pointed out. </p>
<p>The water began to boil, and Carl put the corn in.  “I didn’t think you were serious,” he said, after another minute.  “About the crossbow.”</p>
<p>Daryl grunted again.  When he looked up from the fry pan, Rick was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them, baby on his hip.  A smile curved the side of his mouth.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Rick’s apartment building was across from a ditch, which was where they went after dinner to shoot the crossbow.  There weren’t much in the way of targets, which made the bolts hard to find, but Daryl had brought these practice ones for Carl to use, without heads.  Still hurt you if you got hit with one, but it’d bruise, not stab.  Rick jiggled the baby while Daryl showed Carl where the trigger was.</p>
<p>They shot a few bolts, Daryl loading for him since Carl wasn’t strong enough to draw the weight.  Rick watched whenever Daryl did it—nothing dirty or nasty or anything like that, just looking, but Daryl felt himself blush every time.</p>
<p>Rick hadn’t done nothing.  Hadn’t touched him, other than hand the baby to him, hadn’t winked or made innuendo or nothing.  Daryl had been anxious about Rick doing something, but now that it hadn’t happened he was even more anxious.  What were they doing?  What did <i>Rick</i> think they were doing?  Rick had put his dick in him.  He couldn’t just forget about that—that Daryl was someone who took it up the ass.  That he was someone who liked it.</p>
<p>Daryl’s stomach was churning with the corn and the vegetables and the microwaved chicken.  The other shoe had to drop; Daryl just couldn’t figure out when.</p>
<p>When Daryl went to load another bolt, Carl said, “Dad, can you load it?” </p>
<p>Daryl paused, glanced at Rick.  </p>
<p>“Daryl’s the expert,” was all Rick said.</p>
<p>“So you can’t,” said Carl.</p>
<p>Rick was just standing there holding the baby, looking mildly amused.  He weren’t gonna do nothing.  He weren’t gonna do nothing all night; he was just gonna stand there.  For some reason, it was annoying.  When Daryl thrust the crossbow out to Rick, it was a challenge.</p>
<p>Still just seeming amused, Rick looked from Daryl to Carl, rolled his eyes, and gave Judy to Carl.  Then he took the bow, examining the crosspiece, tugging on the cord a bit, like you weren’t supposed to do.</p>
<p>Daryl told himself he was just helping Rick when he stepped up behind him, so close he could smell him again.  He told himself it was because Rick didn’t know how to draw a crossbow, but that was stupid.  It was so stupid, and Rick was so close.  “You wanna hold it down,” Daryl told Rick, hand pushing down on the bow.  His breath was moving the hair by Rick’s ear.  “So you can pull up.  Pulling up is easier than out.”</p>
<p>“Daryl doesn’t think I can do it,” Rick told Carl.</p>
<p>“Maybe you can’t,” said Carl.</p>
<p>“You know, you could believe in me a bit,” Rick complained.  </p>
<p>“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Carl.  </p>
<p>Rick fiddled with the cord.  Daryl was so close he can see the pink in Rick’s cheeks—exertion, maybe, though he didn’t seem like he was pulling that hard on the cord.  Maybe he was embarrassed with the way Carl was ragging on him.  </p>
<p>“You’re not even really trying,” Carl said.</p>
<p>“It’s harder than it looks,” Rick told Carl, but he was still just fucking around, thumbing the cord, easy as you please.  Meanwhile, he hadn’t seemed to notice Daryl was so close they were almost touching.</p>
<p>“Just try it already,” said Carl.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Rick,” Daryl said, moving away before he embarrassed himself.  “Don’t be a pussy.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Dad. Don’t be a pussy.”</p>
<p>The amusement dropped out of Rick’s face.  “Don’t use that word,” he said, then drew the bow easily, got the cord in place.  </p>
<p>The pink had faded from his cheeks but the muscles of his arms had come out, and Daryl knew how heavy that draw was.  Rick looked hot.  He looked so fucking hot, and Daryl felt ashamed of himself.  He didn’t even know why.</p>
<p>“Why not?” said Carl.</p>
<p>“Just don’t,” Rick said, and fired the crossbow. </p>
<p>The shot weren’t the best ever but Daryl felt like it went right through him.  </p>
<p>“Not bad,” said Carl.</p>
<p>“I think that’s enough,” Rick said, handing the bow back to Daryl.  He reached for Judy and once he was holding her again, Daryl felt worse than ever.  He realized now, what he’d been doing, standing close to Rick like that.  He’d been trying to provoke a reaction, and the worst part was, whatever might’ve happened wasn’t anything Daryl had really wanted.  He didn’t wanna do nothing in front of Rick’s kids, in front of Carl.  Daryl didn’t want it at all, and yet he’d tried to make it happen anyway.</p>
<p>Daryl didn’t know what was wrong with him.</p>
<p>After Carl and Daryl collected the bolts, they started back for the apartment building.  Carl had gone quiet, maybe because Rick seemed a little pissed.  Didn’t like the word pussy, Daryl guessed, which was a shame.  Jake had said some really awful things, but Daryl’d still got off on it.  He’d liked it when Jake had said Daryl had a tight pussy for him.  It was fucked up, but Daryl had liked it anyway.</p>
<p>Or maybe Rick knew what Daryl had been trying to do and was pissed at him for it, which he had every right to be.  </p>
<p>Once they got back to the apartment Rick said he had to put Judy to bed, so Daryl shuffled around and said he should go.  </p>
<p>“Nah, stick around,” said Rick, and it weren’t a question.  It weren’t even casual, though the words were.  It was a command, and it sent a thrill through Daryl at the same time as his flight response kicked in, because what the hell did Rick mean?   What did he want?  </p>
<p>What if he wanted to punish him?  With Carl here?</p>
<p>But there was no way to ask, and Rick went down the hall to put Judy down, and that was even worse because the crib was in Rick’s room and now Daryl was thinking about how they’d fucked in that room.  They’d fucked in there and Rick was putting Judy in there.  It was like a setup for something real hot—<i>keep quiet so you don’t wake the baby</i>—but Daryl didn’t like the thought of it.  At all.  It did the opposite of turn him on; there was nothing he’d less rather do than get fucked, here, with Judy sleeping and Carl in the next room.  </p>
<p>But Rick weren’t gonna want that.  He weren’t gonna ask for nothing like that.  Thank Jesus fucking Christ.  No.  Rick was just gonna pretend like none of it were real.  Like nothing had ever happened at all, like they weren’t nasty; they’d never even touched each other.  Rick was a fine upstanding citizen, a nice friend, a good dad, so he was gonna act like they’d never even kissed.  </p>
<p>Daryl couldn’t understand why that made him feel so bad.</p>
<p>Daryl played video games with Carl while Rick put Judy down.  When Rick came back out, Daryl and Carl kept playing and Daryl and Rick had a few beers.  Eventually Rick said Carl had to go to bed and that Daryl had to get home.  Carl moped about it and begged to stay up, but Rick was pretty firm.  </p>
<p>Daryl lingered a bit, thinking maybe Rick would make Carl go to bed and then—then something would happen, maybe, but Rick wasn’t trying to make Carl go to bed right then.  He was saying Daryl needed to get home so he could sleep and that he and Carl needed to do the dishes in the kitchen, and finally Daryl was going out the door.  Rick clapped him on the back.  “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said, but there wasn’t an undertone in it, not a hint.  It was just earnest and friendly.</p>
<p>“Yeah, come back soon,” said Carl.  “Dad’s boring.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Rick told Carl, in that way that meant he disagreed completely.  “Which of us can draw a crossbow?”</p>
<p>“Daryl,” Carl answered, and the door was closing.</p>
<p>“Hey,” said Rick, mock offended at Carl.  The door closed.</p>
<p>Daryl headed to his truck, and he should have been relieved.  He should have been so fucking relieved.  They’d done stuff and it’d been normal; it had been really fucking normal even though Rick had done such nasty things to him other times; they’d both been so nasty; Daryl was so nasty.  Tonight they were almost like a . . . a family, and that was what Rick wanted most and Daryl had done it for him.  Daryl had given it to him; he should be proud.</p>
<p>And Daryl had been good at something—with the crossbow.  It’d kept Carl entertained.  Made Rick’s kid happy, which was the whole point.  And Daryl could cook for them, too.  Maybe he could cook a whole meal for them.  And he’d held a baby, too; he’d done a good job.  He’d done a good job with everything, and it’d been nice.  It’d been so nice.</p>
<p>Daryl’s chest hurt.  He felt overwhelmed by it and so, so disappointed.  He didn’t know why; everything had been exactly what he wanted. </p>
<p>Daryl’s hand was on the handle of the truck door, trying to will himself to open it, when a set of rough hands grabbed him from behind.  Daryl was gonna break the guy’s arm, but it was Rick, Rick grabbing him and pulling him across the parking lot.  </p>
<p>Then Rick got him in a dark corner, on a side of the apartment building that wasn’t lit up—not a lot of windows.  Not a lot of anything besides shadows and dumpsters and maybe a rat or two, hiding, and then Rick was kissing him.  </p>
<p>Hot.  Rick’s mouth was warm; his whole body was warm.  It weren’t a cool night, but Rick was hotter, his tongue pushing into Daryl’s mouth so Daryl couldn’t breathe.  Rick’s teeth scraped Daryl’s lip as he kissed him, and then Rick pulled out of the kiss enough to actually bite Daryl’s lip.  Lightly.  A little nip, and then Rick was sucking on it, pulling Daryl’s lip into his own mouth, and then Rick’s tongue was back, sweeping inside Daryl’s mouth again.</p>
<p>Daryl was dizzy with it, how hot it was, how thoroughly Rick was kissing him.  He sagged against the wall of the apartment building, letting Rick do anything he wanted, take anything he wanted.</p>
<p>“Come on,” Rick said.</p>
<p>Daryl wanted to pull back, see the look on Rick’s face, try to decide what he meant, but it was too dark to really see him.</p>
<p>Rick kissed him again, softly.  Pulled back, breathing in Daryl’s mouth.  Kissed along Daryl’s jaw to his ear.  Murmured, “Come on.  Kiss me.”</p>
<p>Oh yeah.  Daryl’d just been standing there, letting Rick have at it, but Rick didn’t just want to do things to him, take things from him.  Rick wanted to be together, do it together, and now he had pulled back and was waiting for it, face close to Daryl’s but not kissing.  Just breathing there, waiting.</p>
<p>Daryl touched the side of Rick’s face.  Like you do in a movie, but he realized he hadn’t done that before, and dammit, he still weren’t good at this—</p>
<p>Rick’s lips moved against the side of Daryl’s face.  “No one can see you,” he whispered, and Daryl kissed him.</p>
<p>Daryl kissed him clumsily, open mouth blindly brushing over the side of Rick’s cheek before locking with Rick’s lips.</p>
<p>
  <i>No one can see you.</i>
</p>
<p>Daryl didn’t know what to do with his teeth.  He didn’t know what to do with his breath, all this fucking spit, but he wanted him.  He wanted him so, so bad, and that anxious, churning feeling that had been in Daryl’s stomach all evening burned away into something else.  Something hot, something bright.  Something desperate.</p>
<p>
  <i>No one can see you.</i>
</p>
<p>Oh God.</p>
<p>Daryl wanted him so goddamn much.  He shoved his tongue in Rick’s mouth and Daryl wanted to shove it in farther, get closer, taste him.  Taste all of him, feel every part of him. </p>
<p><i>No one can see you,</i> and Daryl realized Rick had been waiting.  He’d been waiting when he’d looked at Daryl holding Judith, and when Daryl had stepped up behind him to show him the crossbow, and when Rick had told him to stay.  This had been there the whole time, coiled and waiting to strike, this desire, but Rick had kept it back, leashed, hidden, all the way up until this moment, and it hadn’t just been so his kids wouldn’t see.  It’d been so Daryl wouldn’t be seen.  </p>
<p>Here in the dark shadow of the apartment building was a whole private world that only they could share, and no one could see in.  No one else could have it.  Rick had been saving it for them, just them.</p>
<p>Daryl got his hands in Rick’s hair—he finally touched it, buried his hands in it.  Yanked Rick with it, pulling him forward, turning him around, getting Rick against the wall.</p>
<p>He had Rick against the wall.</p>
<p>God.</p>
<p>Christ.</p>
<p>Daryl couldn’t breathe.  He pulled back, gulping for air.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Rick panted, tugging on Daryl’s jeans to pull him closer.  “Goddamn.”</p>
<p>Daryl’s forehead pressed against Rick’s.  They were both still gasping for air.</p>
<p>“Goddamn,” Rick said again, and kissed him.</p>
<p>Daryl felt a little bit ashamed of what he’d done—pushing Rick against the wall—but he wasn’t stupid.  He knew Rick liked it.  He’d liked it.  The sort of guys Daryl had been with didn’t like him to be like that, though, and Daryl weren’t used to it.  His heart was going a mile a minute.  He kissed Rick again, more gently.  Pulled Rick’s bottom lip into his mouth, the way Rick had done to him.  Christ, Rick had the thickest lips.</p>
<p>Pulling away with a groan, Rick said, “I gotta get back.”</p>
<p>Daryl still had him up against the wall.  It was hot and thrilling because it was Rick, but it was confusing, being the one to pin him.  Daryl couldn’t quite tell whether he liked it.</p>
<p>Rick kissed him again, a hot, lingering kiss on Daryl’s neck.  “I told Carl you left your keys.”</p>
<p>Daryl stepped back.</p>
<p>Rick ran his hand over his hair, like he could calm the tumble of curls.  “Come to the park with us,” he said.  “Tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Daryl eyed him.  “Why?  We gonna play basketball?”</p>
<p>Rick broke out into this sudden, unexpected smile.  It was too dark to really see it, but Daryl could make out the gleam of teeth, and for Rick that was so unusual that Daryl was momentarily speechless.  “Scared you’ll lose?” said Rick.</p>
<p>Daryl kissed him again.</p>
<p>Rick took a swift, startled breath.  Reached for him.</p>
<p>“Carl,” Daryl said, pulling away.</p>
<p>“He can handle being alone another five minutes,” Rick said, leaning in.  “He’s fourteen.”</p>
<p>“Judy’s not,” said Daryl.</p>
<p>Rick just looked at him for a moment.  Then his hands were on either side of Daryl’s head, bringing it closer, and Rick was pushing his brow against Daryl’s, holding them forehead to forehead like that.  “Tomorrow,” Rick breathed, then kissed him again, hard.</p>
<p>Then he broke away, turned around.  Headed back toward the light of his apartment.</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>They went to the park the next day.  They played fucking basketball.</p>
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